


if not for you

by Notmycatsname



Series: Coming Back Together [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Fluff, Full Moon, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmycatsname/pseuds/Notmycatsname
Summary: "There’s something precious in watching Remus’s routines, seeing how he takes care of himself and sometimes Sirius has to pull back so he doesn’t lose himself in simply watching Remus for hours on end."
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Coming Back Together [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933969
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	if not for you

Usually when Grimmauld is this quiet, Sirius thinks it feels more like a mausoleum than a house fit for people but he’s grateful for the silence now. It’s almost peaceful when it’s just the two of them; Remus is passed out in a post-full moon haze on the couch while Sirius messes about in an attempt to make a proper healing potion in a cauldron on the floor. He should do this in a place with a proper table, the dining room or kitchen, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave Remus’s side right now. They’d both stayed in bed for most of the day, Remus in a deep sleep and Sirius jolting awake every few minutes to make sure Remus was still there, still breathing. 

This is the first moon Sirius has spent with Remus since they’ve made the move to Grimmauld nearly five months ago. Typically he’s out on assignment during this time of the month while Sirius stays trapped in the house, sulking and stomping and feeling overall miserable that he can’t _do_ anything, especially not anything to help Remus. Last month, though, Remus had come back after nearly three weeks and had a long conversation with Dumbledore and Moody where he told them in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t be spending any more moons with the pack. At least not that pack. Sirius had been shocked when he said it, never thought in a million years that Remus would get over whatever debt he feels he owes Dumbledore and actually _say_ what he wants to him. A lot really has changed in the last decade. 

Sirius had forgotten how much he missed spending the moons with Remus in the woods outside his little cottage and it had been different here, of course, but this house almost seems nice seen through doggy eyes with the wolf in a play bow next to him, stamping his front paws until Padfoot lunged forward onto him. Wolfsbane may keep Remus in control but there’s still some of the wolf’s playfulness in there and Padfoot could never say no to that. 

The two of them had migrated into the living room an hour ago and Sirius had watched as Remus lit up a joint with shaky hands before falling asleep again. It’s his post-moon ritual, it seems, and he had told Sirius that it keeps the pain at bay and muffles the nausea enough so that he can eat something. There’s something precious in watching Remus’s routines, seeing how he takes care of himself and sometimes Sirius has to pull back so he doesn’t lose himself in simply _watching_ Remus for hours on end. 

Sirius grumbles a little to himself on the floor, trying to remember if he used to add one sprig of wormwood or two to this potion. He shrugs and adds one extra large piece and stirs it until it bubbles. He sniffs it. It seems right, although he’s not sure if he’d know otherwise at this point. Healing potions used to be Sirius’s specialty so he hopes muscle memory carried him through most of the way. Sirius glances up from his spot on the floor. Remus looks better than he did a few hours ago. There’s already more color to his face, at least from what Sirius can see. He’s smushed almost face down into a pillow with a blanket pulled up around his shoulders, legs completely uncovered with a foot hanging off the side of the couch. He looks a little ridiculous. Sirius loves him for it. 

As quietly as he can, although he knows he won’t wake Remus regardless, Sirius slips into the kitchen and busies himself with preparing a plate of food for Remus, all light and bland foods. He puts together some toast, jam, a hot cup of tea and realizes Remus probably needs some sort of protein so he tops it off with a piece of cold chicken from the fridge. It’s a mishmash of food and while Sirius has the skills and ability to prepare Remus a real meal, he doesn’t want to spend more time away from Remus than he has to right now. It’s irrational, he knows, but he just wants to be there. 

Remus still seems to be in the same position as when Sirius left him, not bothered at all by whatever clanging about he was doing in the other room. Sirius hates to wake him but does so anyway, creeping his fingers around Remus’s neck and smiling when he brings his shoulders up and squirms his head away. He grumbles a little and burrows his head further into the pillow.  
  
“Come on, Remus, I need you to get up.” Sirius perches on the edge of the couch and tugs the blanket away from his face. He thinks of when Remus would lure Padfoot out of a deep sleep with a dog treat beneath his nose and a smirk on his lips when it worked. Sirius smiles at the memory and tears off a piece of chicken and holds it up to Remus’s face. His eyebrows furrow, nostrils flaring, and he blinks slowly, eyes trying to focus on the meat in confusion before he opens his mouth and lets Sirius place it on his tongue. 

“What are you doing?” Remus asks after he’s chewed and swallowed. He shuffles around for a moment until he can recline against the arm rest. 

“Just giving you a little treat.” Sirius holds another bite of chicken up to his lips and Remus rolls his eyes slightly but takes it. “Feel okay?” He hands him the mug of tea and Remus holds it in both of his hands, letting the steam brush his face. 

“I’m good,” Remus mumbles. He’s smiling softly and his eyes are still a little glassy, a little hazy. “How are _you_?” Remus asks this like it was Sirius’s bones and muscles and skin that had snapped, stretched, and contorted twice in the past twelve hours and not his own. 

“Grand, thanks for asking.” Sirius slathers the toast with jelly and exchanges it for the tea, spooning some of his potentially questionable pain potion into it. He just barely stops himself from holding the cup up to Remus’s lips but Remus still notices, of course. 

“You’ve missed your calling,” Remus says softly around a bite of toast. 

“Hmm?”

“You would have made an excellent housewife.” Sirius can only describe his expression as “shit-eating” and flicks him lightly upside the head for it. He pushes Remus forward a bit, giving him enough room to slide behind him on the couch and wraps one arm around him as tightly as he dares post-moon. 

Reaching back with his free hand, Sirius grabs a square of chocolate off the end table and places it on Remus’s belly. “I will choose to take that as a complement.” Remus laughs softly and Sirius wants to squeeze him until there’s no space between them and he wonders if he’s always been so disgustingly sappy or if this has only come about after so many years apart. 

They sit together like that, smushed up against each other on the too-firm couch and Sirius feels more at ease with every bite Remus takes. Once he’s finished everything but the chocolate, Remus sparks up the joint again, taking three deep pulls before passing it to Sirius. Weed doesn’t do for Sirius what it does for Remus and he’s never been particularly partial to it but there’s something nice about drifting away from everything except for the two of them. 

The smoke burns his throat and he can feel the fog take over his thoughts soon after. Sirius shuts his eyes for a moment, adjusting to the feeling, but they spring back open abruptly when something touches his lips. Remus is laughing at him over his shoulder as he presses half of the chocolate against Sirius’s mouth, smearing it a bit on his lips. “I don’t like dark chocolate,” Sirius mutters as he takes it into his mouth, wiping his hand over his face.  
  
“It’s good for you though.”

The strong taste covers the remaining taste of the smoke, coats his mouth in an almost syrupy way and that combined with Remus’s firm weight against him makes him feel warm and tender in a way he never thought he would in his family’s home. “It’s bad for dogs though,” Sirius says after a while, nearly forgetting to answer. 

Remus just hums a little. “Good thing you’re not a dog,” he slurs against Sirius’s collarbone, already nearly asleep again. Sirius buries his smile into the wayward curls on the top of Remus’s head. Remus calling him a housewife nearly is a complement in Sirius’s eyes, so he’ll take it with pride. Especially if it means he can sit here with Remus at his weakest part of the month, cramming him full of good food and hot teas and his devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> notmycatsname on tumblr


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